


i'll follow you to hell and back

by buddhaghost



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cabeswater - Freeform, Repressed Emotions, The Magician - Freeform, Will Add as I go, and dean and sam, and gansey, author takes lots of liberties, general confusion, psychics being vague, the ghost - Freeform, the graywarren, the mirror - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6181285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buddhaghost/pseuds/buddhaghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam leaned forward, adopting his ‘concerned for your well-being’ face. “They told us that we needed to find you in order to help the Magician?” He mistook Ronan’s raised eyebrow for disbelief, because he huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. I don’t know what they meant, but they kept saying ‘Find the Greywarren, Save the Magician’”.</p>
<p>or: the Magician is in trouble and the angels enlist Dean and Sam to help the Greywarren save him, with the assistance of a wayward psychic's daughter, a friendly ghost, and a supernatural-creature enthusiast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. feathery assholes

“So are you sure this is it?” Sam asked for a final time as they approached the house. There was really no other way to describe it except for… intimidating. It was huge, with a grand entrance and gravel driveway. Beautiful, vibrant gardens grew alongside the house’s walls, but they were clearly overgrown and hadn’t been cared for in ages. The house itself, despite its clear grandeur, had also fallen into disrepair. The windows were boarded up, and the paint peeled off the walls like scars. Shingles from the roof littered the ground below, as if they had been blown off in a violent storm. The only thing that actually looked cared for in this place was a shiny black BMW, parked in a wild fashion, with skid marks visible in the gravel.

Dean gave his brother a look after taking the house in. “Of course I’m sure, Sammy, do you see any other house in this general vicinity? These are the coordinates the angels gave us, and they’re never wrong.”

Sam shook his head, huffing, and together they approached the front door, where they were again at a stand still.

“Would you stop staring at me and knock already?” Dean asked from where he had been examining a gigantic sunflower that seemed to be following him.

“Right, sure.” Sam knocked against the wooden door, listening to it echo inside. After waiting a few moments, he lifted his hand to bang again, and almost punched the house’s owner when he swung open the door.

The boy leaned up against the frame, effectively blocking any way in. He was wearing baggy sweatpants and a black tank top, and Dean could see a black tattoo that matched his own stretching up from the boy’s shoulder. His head was shaved and he bit into a vibrant green apple while simultaneously gesturing towards his feet.  
“Didn’t you see the fucking doormat?”

Dean looked down, stepping off the ratty thing so he could read it clearly. “Fuck off,” Sam read aloud, before looking back up at the boy, bewildered.

The boy nodded. “So you’re not illiterate, just stupid,” he said, before pushing off the door jamb and turning on his heel, walking further into the house. “You may as well come in. If you could find this place, you must have something worthwhile to tell me,” he called over his shoulder.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, who shrugged in return. Together, they stepped into the dark house and followed the boy into the house.

The entrance hall wasn’t much different from the outside of the house. It was dark, moldy, and Dean could clearly see dust filtering through the air. At every surface, it seemed, there was an empty beer bottle. The carpet was torn up, and Dean could see the scratched floorboards beneath. It looked as if something with long claws had come through here.

The hallway opened up into a living room, and the boy was sprawled out on a ragged leather couch. This, like the carpet and floorboards, had deep gouges in it, as if someone had attacked it, or someone on it.

A loud shriek interrupted the silence and Sam jumped, quickly lifting his foot off something that looked to be… a toy mouse? It definitely wasn’t real, Dean could see the mechanical joints whirring, but still, it jumped to its feet and tore off. Now paying attention, Dean could see that the floor was covered in things that just… didn’t seem possible. A glowing Rubik Cube, a wind-up butterfly who’s wings fluttered without any prompting. A blue flower, looking as if someone had tried to destroy it, yet it almost seemed to glow in the dark. Nothing of major value, but everything looked as if it came out of a dream. Which, if this was who Dean thought he was, they did.  
“Please, sit down,” the boy said, gesturing to two twin armchairs that faced his couch. Dean brushed aside a toy solider that brandished a smoking gun, and Sam picked up a toy car that seemed to be an exact replica of the BMW back outside, down to the hair-line crack on the back window.

“So, you’re the Greywarren, I take it,” Sam said, putting the car down carefully. The boy’s ice blue eyes followed his movements in a calculating manner before looking up to stare directly at Sam. The only hint of acknowledgment that Dean detected was a tightening of the boy’s jaw.

“Please, no need for formalities. My friends call me Ronan.” He twirled the apple, now merely a core, in his long fingers. “So, who sent you? What do they want?”  
“Um, what?” Sam said. “No, we don’t want anything. We were sent by the angels.”

The boy – Ronan – stared at them before throwing his head back and barking out a harsh laugh. “The angels? Man, that’s good. I haven’t heard from those feathery assholes in a while.”

At the mention of ‘feathery asshole’, the sound of beating wings filled the silence, and a raven seemed to pull itself out of the shadows to land on Ronan’s shoulder. He absentmindedly reached up to affectionately pet the bird’s head. “So, what do the flying idiots have to say?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Well now, I don’t disagree with you about the ‘feathery asshole’ part. They’re infuriatingly vague, as always.”

Sam leaned forward, adopting his ‘concerned for your well-being’ face. “They told us that we needed to find you in order to help the Magician?” He mistook Ronan’s raised eyebrow for disbelief, because he huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. I don’t know what they meant, but they kept saying ‘Find the Greywarren, Save the Magician’”.  
Ronan pulled himself out of his slouch, but didn’t say anything. The bird took off, cawing loudly.

“Do you know what that means?” Dean asked.

Ronan stood up, stepping around the landmines that littered his floor without even watching. He tossed the apple, and Dean and Sam watched as it soared in an arc and landed solidly in an over-flowing wastebasket. “I don’t lie,” he started, but neglected to continue. With his back to them, Dean could see a bit more of his tattoo. It wasn’t what he originally had thought – he could still see the demon protection ward, but it bled into something more. From what Dean could see, it took the shape of a tree, curving across his back.

“So?” Sam finally broke the silence. “Do you know what it means?”

Before Ronan could answer, the room seemed to drop in temperature, and a boy walked through the wall.

Sam leapt to his feet, arms extended as if he could banish the ghost that just appeared. Dean looked around wildly for an iron poker, something he could attack the ghost with. Ronan didn’t react at all except to say, “’Sup, Noah”.

The ghost turned to look at Dean and Sam, a gentle smile on his translucent face. He had tired eyes a deep smudge on his left cheek, as if somebody had clubbed him in the face. He was wearing an old rumpled school uniform.

He nodded at them before turning to Ronan. “Hey, how’d they get here? I thought this place was totally off the grid.”

Ronan finally turned around, face unreadable. “It is, except to the angels.”

The ghost’s eyes widened, and he stage-whispered, “are those two buffoons angels?”

“Hey,” Dean grunted. “These two buffoons are right here!”

“Guys, this is Noah,” Ronan introduced, throwing a hand carelessly between them. “Noah, this is… actually, I don’t know who the fuck you guys are.”

“I’m Dean,” he grunted, flexing his fingers to rid the urge of destroying this ghost. Obviously Ronan seemed to know him, but that didn’t mean he was a friendly ghost. Dean had met too many ghosts that started out as friendly but ended up in a murdering spree.

“Sam,” Sam extended his hand towards the ghost, but thought better of it and retracted. Ronan and Noah watched shrewdly. “We were just talking to Ronan – do you know anything about a Magician? We were told to find the Greywarren to save the Magician.”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked quickly between Ronan and the brothers.

“What does he mean, save the Magician? Is he –“ he was silenced by a glare from Ronan.

“Oh good, at least someone knows what’s going on!” Dean exclaimed. “Even if it is a dead boy. Please clue us in. Who is the magician?”  
Noah and Ronan exchanged glances, seeming to be having a voiceless conversation.

“Guys, I don’t know if you’re trying to protect someone, but what from we’ve heard, the Magician is in danger,” Sam explained, looking earnestly at the two younger men. Well, if you counted a younger ghost as a ‘young man’.

“Like, serious danger. Lucifer-trying-to-drag-him-to-hell type of danger. End-of-days, apocalypse type of danger.” Dean followed up.  
“I’m sorry, and how do you know this?” Ronan asked, stalking closer. “Who exactly told you this? The ‘angels’? Then why the fuck aren’t they doing anything? What the hell can I do?”

“The angels, well, they’re kind of… compromised right now,” Sam confessed. “There’s a lot going on upstairs.”

“We have our own contact down on Earth,” Dean stated. “A good guy, like us. Wants to actually save the world.”

“Don’t they all,” Ronan muttered. He cursed and kicked one of the many pieces of dream junk littering the floor across the room.

Before Sam or Dean could defend the questionable integrity of the angels, a new voice came from the dark entryway.

“Ronan, it’s me! Who’s car is in the driveway, it looks like a lame knockoff of yours. Jesus Christ, do you need me to hire a cleaning lady?” This was followed by sound of glass bottles clinking together, and a noise of disgust. “Cause I sure as hell am not cleaning up after you.”

Sam and Dean were immediately on guard, bodies tense and facing the dark hallway, ready for anything. “Who’s that? I thought nobody could find this place?”

A figure appeared in the shadows, stepping forward to reveal a tiny woman. Girl, really, she couldn’t be older than seventeen at the most. She had wild black hair that was unsuccessfully pinned back with multiple clips, giving her the appearance of just having walked through a windstorm. She had ripped leggings, partly covered by knee-high decorative socks that stuck out from her worn combat boots. Her top was something between a dress and a shirt – long and flowing, with rips that looked deliberate. She topped the whole look off with a black cardigan that glittered as if it was the night sky itself.

She regarded the two of men with sharp eyes, seeming to take in everything she needed to know about them with one calculated glance before turning to Ronan. “Who the hell are they?”

“Who the hell are you?” Dean demanded. “Who the hell is she?” This was directed at Ronan.

“Blue!” The ghost, Noah, appeared at her side, petting the girl’s wild hair. His hand, and his whole body, really, seemed stronger, more there, with the girl, than he had previously. It was as if her presence had strengthened him.

“Maggot,” Ronan greeted the girl from behind Dean and Sam. “These two home invaders come bearing news from the angels.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “So you’re the two guys my mom was talking about!” She exclaimed, before leaping forward with one hand outstretched. “I’m Blue, pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking hands with Sam first, then Dean.

“I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean. And could you clarify what you meant by your mother talking about us?”

Blue stepped further into the room, brushing past Dean and plopping herself on the couch Ronan had been sprawled on earlier. “Her mom’s a psychic,” Ronan said, at the same time Blue said, “my mom’s a psychic.”

“Oh boy,” Dean said. “We’ve met a few psychics in our time.”

Blue narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam was quick to undo whatever damage his brother may have done. “Don’t mind him. Did your mom… see us in a vision?”

Blue opened her mouth, but it was Ronan who answered. “They told me that two random assholes would show up at my house and guide me to the Magician, so we could save his sorry ass from whatever hell he’s been condemned to.”

The men looked at Blue, who just shrugged. “That’s more or less what she said.”

Dean turned to Ronan. “Alright pal, let up on the insults. You now have confirmation from both this chick’s mom and the angels that you need us. So time to start telling the truth. Who is the Magician?”

Blue turned to look at Ronan, seeming to be asking a question with her eyes. He shook his head imperceptibly before answering, “I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen him. In my dreams,” he clarified for the brothers’ benefit. “He’s another one of Cabeswater’s minions.” He sounded particularly bitter about that.

“I’m sorry,” Sam interrupted. “Cabeswater?” He looked at Dean. “Do you know who that is?”

“Not a who,” Noah said softly, startling Sam as he took a seat next to Blue, curling into her. “A what.”

“Cabeswater is basically a magical forest,” Ronan stated. Blue turned around from where she had been listening patiently and shot him a glare.

“Come on, you know it’s more than that,” she scoffed, before turning to the brothers. “Cabeswater is a powerful being, a presence, that appears in the mortal world as a forest. It’s the place where all the ley-lines –energy lines– that encompass the world intersect.”

“And what exactly does this ‘magical forest’ do?” Dean asked, sounding skeptical.

Blue made a noise in the back of throat, which sounded suspiciously like “I don’t know”. Ronan shrugged. “It’s not that simple. It’s the reason I can do what I can do, that I know for sure.”

“It’s the reason I’m here,” Noah said.

“And what can the Magician do?” Sam asked.

“And who is the Magician?” Dean demanded. “Let’s get a straight answer here.”

“Are you telling me my answer wasn’t straight?” Blue asked indignant. “Fine. Ronan, give this man what he wants.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what the Magician can do, magic? What is it that magicians do? Anyways, all I know is he’s in my dreams. I don’t know who he is, and I-” he cut himself off, looking angry.

Blue rubbed her hands together, breaking the silence. “My mom said to bring these two to her when they show,” she said, addressing Ronan and gesturing to Dean and Sam. “So they’ve showed…” She trailed off, as if to let Ronan make the decision, but it seemed that Blue had already made it. She pushed herself of the couch and punched Ronan in the bicep with her tiny fist. “Perk up, this is the most exciting thing to happen to you in a long time.”

“I thought I’d given up excitement for good when I moved here,” Ronan growled, but he seemed to agree with Blue. “Just let me get my stuff.” He disappeared further into the dark house.

“So… you’re mom. Will she be able to clear some things up for us?” Sam asked, silently praying to whoever was listening that some questions would get answers, and soon.  
Blue glanced at him and shrugged. “Maybe.” She then stuck her hand out into the air, like she was reaching for something. “Noah? You going to come with us?”

The ghost materialized into being. Dean hadn’t even noticed that he had disappeared from his spot next to the girl. Noah placed his pallid hand into Blue’s out-stretched one, and said with a tired smile, “I’d like to.” 

Ronan’s banging footsteps could be heard before he appeared, now donning a hoodie and carrying a black duffle bag. The bird that he had been cuddling with earlier flapped onto his shoulder. Ronan caught Sam’s stare and sneered. “See something you like?” Sam opened his mouth, brow furrowed, but didn’t seem to know how to respond to this. “That’s what I thought.”

“Ronan, at least try to act like a decent human being that people can like,” Blue chastised as they headed out of the dream-infested room and back down the dreary hallway.

“I don’t think that’s possible for the kid,” Dean whispered to Sam. Ronan, walking a few meters ahead, flipped them off behind his back.

“Rude,” Sam stated. The brothers shared a glance, silently asking each other why they were here, with this insufferable prick and his two sidekicks – tiny ass-kicker and moody ghost.

Pushing the door open, Ronan immediately banked right. “I’m driving,” he stated. Blue rolled her eyes and turned to the brothers as Ronan carelessly shoved his duffle into the trunk of his car before throwing himself into the driver’s seat. “So, you guys can either follow us, or-“

“I’ll go with mister I-Hate-Everything, Sam can take you and Casper the friendly ghost in my car,” Dean interrupted, already striding towards the idling BMW. Blue grit her teeth at his boldness, Noah looked affronted and Sam looked astonished.

“You want me to drive your car?” He called after Dean’s retreating back.

“Trust me Sammy, this one would eat you alive,” Dean said before sliding into the passenger seat. Ronan stuck his head out the window, looking back towards Blue.

“Are you really going to make me take grandpa all alone?” He said, clearly annoyed. In the car, Dean could be heard saying, ‘Hey there sonny, show some respect’. Ronan rolled his eyes. “As long as you keep your hands to yourself,” he said before they took off.

Sam turned to Blue, who was headed towards the impala, Noah drifting behind her. “I’m assuming this is yours?” She said, pulling open the passenger seat door and climbing in. “Let’s go, I don’t want Ronan and your brother to kill each other. We need to keep an eye on them.”

Sam nodded and hurried after the girl, climbing in and tearing out of the driveway. “I’m just going to warn you now, you’re never going to catch them,” Blue said. “Ronan drives like the devil’s on his ass.”

Sam tilted his head in acknowledgment, but told her, “We’ll see about that.”


	2. psychic mumbo-jumbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the crew learns a little more about eachother and the Magician's situation

Every muscle in Ronan’s body was trembling with the effort not to take his hands of the wheel and throttle the man sitting beside him. From the moment Dean had announced he was taking Blue’s typical role as Ronan’s passenger, he knew he was in for an emotionally taxing car ride, even though it only took about half an hour to get from his isolated mansion to Blue’s overcrowded home. Ronan had been quick to start blasting whatever obnoxious CD was in his car at the moment, but to his horror and grudging admiration, Dean seemed to know each song he played. It got to the point where Ronan was tempted to pull out his last resort - the Murder Squash Song - but Dean lost his patience first, pressing the eject button and causing the car to fall into silence.

Dean cleared his throat when Ronan made it clear he wasn’t going to start any sort of conversation. “How old are you, anyway?” the man asked.

Ronan glanced at Dean, taking in his worn jeans, faded flannel and leather jacket that just made the man look like he was trying to appear younger than he was. He didn’t look old per se, but the lines on his face and shadows in his eyes implied he had seen some terrible things. 

“How old are you?” Ronan shot back. “A forty year old man travelling alone with his brother? Pretty pathetic man.”

“Hey now,” Dean defended himself, “first of all, I’m not forty. And you’re not one to talk, considering you live alone with just a ghost and that girl to keep you from becoming a full-blown hermit. I mean, when I was your age, I was always in the company of one hot chick or another. When I wasn’t killing werewolves, at least.”

“There’s nothing I enjoy more than listening to a man who has aged past his prime reminisce about the ‘good old days’,” Ronan deadpanned as the car screeched to the right, throwing Dean into the car door. “Please continue.”

“You’re one snarky little bastard, you know that?” Dean said as he straightened himself. “I guess that’s why the girl hangs out with you. You guys make a cute couple.”

Ronan barked a laugh. “Oh my god, I cannot believe you just said that. And ‘the girl’ has a name, you know. Blue. Pretty sure she’s told you herself. But she’s not my type.”

Dean didn’t seem to eager to press on the matter, considering that Ronan looked about as friendly as a rabid dog and just about as willing as one to spill his secret crush. Instead, Dean decided to once again bring up the reason he was stuck with this unfriendly kid.

“So, can you explain to me what exactly it is that you do? Like, what was up with the toys? Looked like a pre-schoolers wet dream.” 

Ronan shot him a disgusted look. “Well, you’re not wrong about the dream,” he allowed in a low voice. “What do you know about dream thieves, anyways?”

“Honestly? I’ve never heard that term until today. I didn’t even know that the Greywarren –that you– actually existed until a couple days ago.”

Ronan laughed darkly. “Yeah, well, it’s easier that way. If everyone knew about some kid that could pull anything from a dream…” he trailed off, leaving Dean to imagine.

“Is that why you live so far off the grid? And speaking of off the grid, how, may I ask, is your house hidden from everyone except angels?”

Ronan shrugged, the movement causing the bones in his shoulder to shift fluidly. “It’s the fucking forest man. Cabeswater.”

“So this ‘magical forest’ –which, by the way, sounds suspiciously like the one from Harry Potter– does what you ask it to?”

Ronan held a carefully blank face, revealing nothing as he spoke. “I don’t have that type of relationship with it. The only time I can really converse with it is when I’m dreaming, and I just tell it what it wants and it gives it to me. It’s the Magician that has the direct contact. The forest basically tells him what to do and he does it, and in exchange it protects him.”

“And you?”

Ronan’s jaw clenched. “It was his choice to split his own safety to share with me.”

Dean leaned back, watching the brittle younger man before him. “Wow,” he grunted. “I think that’s the most you’ve ever said in such a short time.”

“We literally met each other an hour ago,” Ronan snapped. “Now it’s my turn to ask questions. Except I honestly don’t give a fuck about you or your life. I just want to know what you mean when you say the Magician is in trouble.”

Dean pulled his lips tight, making a face of annoyance. “Well, we were actually hoping that you would be able to tell us. Like I said –”

“Yeah, yeah, the angels didn’t tell you anything,” Ronan interrupted before swearing under his breath. 

“Not anything concrete, at least,” Dean affirmed. “Maybe your psychic friend can help us.”

“We’ll see,” Ronan said, before recklessly pulling over in front of a small blue house and getting out of the car, making sure to slam the door. Dean did the same, eyeing the place. He hadn’t even noticed that they had entered a neighborhood, yet here they were. The house was small and a vibrant blue, which Dean speculated played a part in making the house seem to have a larger presence than it did. The address on the mailbox, which hung crookedly on it's post, read 300 Fox Way. There was a sign on the front lawn –which, though rather scraggly in some places, was in much better shape than Ronan’s– that someone with nice handwriting had painted the words: PSYCHIC, with ‘by appointment only’ written below it, in a smaller and less-aggressive penmanship.

Dean turned as the tell-tale sound of the Impala was heard making it’s way down the road. Sam pulled over behind the BMW and climbed out, followed by Blue and Noah. They seemed to be in the middle of a conversation, Blue’s face lit up in a smile as she animatedly described something to Sam.

“Seems like you’ve made a friend,” Dean commented when Sam came to stand by him.

“She’s got a lot to say,” Sam said, sounding fond. “So how about you? Were you able to bond with Ronan?”

Dean shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh. “He’s about as friendly as one would expect. Don’t see why the girl and the ghost even bother with him.”

“That’s mean,” Noah said from behind the two men, startling them both. “Ronan’s a good person. He’s just had a hard time in life.”

“Haven’t we all,” Dean muttered.

“Come on, it’s time to go inside,” Noah said. “It’s rude to stand outside someone’s house and gossip about them.” He urged them forward to follow Ronan and Blue, who had finished whatever discussion they were having and were halfway across the lawn, headed for the front door.

Before they could reach it, however, it was swung open, revealing a pale woman whose appearance was completely dominated by a cloud of pale blonde hair that seemed to float around her head and brushed the backs of her thighs at its longest. She didn’t say anything to Blue or Ronan, and instead stared past them, at Sam and Dean. For a second, Dean thought she had completely black eyes, like a demon, but he quickly realized his mistake - it was merely her irises that were pure black.

“Well hello,” she said, her soft voice barely audible from where Dean and Sam stood. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“Persephone, get out of the way and let them in!” Another voice yelled from inside the house. Persephone smiled and backed away. 

“Nice to see you again,” she said to Ronan. He nodded in return.

The entrance hall was a tight squeeze, with Ronan, Blue, Dean, Sam and Persephone, whose hair seemed to take up a large amount of space on it’s own. Noah, probably due to his status of a ghost, didn’t seem to take up any space at all. To the left was a sitting room, where two women sat - one with dark skin and unnaturally plum-colored lips, pulled into a smirk, and one who shared so many similarities to Blue –minus the height issue– that she couldn’t be anything but the girl’s mother.

Persephone drifted into the room, and Blue, Ronan and Noah followed. She sat in a love seat by the window and picked up a still-steaming cup of what Dean assumed to be tea. Blue perched on a stool near the dark-skinned woman, and Ronan leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed and looking distinctly uninterested in whatever was going to happen next.

The dark skinned woman took one look at Dean and Sam and turned to Blue’s mother, saying, “I didn’t know they’d be so cute.”

Sam huffed and Dean laughed. The other woman rolled her eyes before turning to them, stretching her hand out. “I’m Maura, that’s Calla, and I see you’ve already met my darling daughter Blue,” she said in way of introduction.

Sam, always the gentleman, leapt forward to shake her hand before turning to Calla. She leaned forward with a challenge in her eyes, and took his hand, less in a hand-shake way and more in a palm-read way.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she said, now holding Sam’s hand with both of her own. Sam glanced around the room, looking understandably taken aback. Blue waved her hand in a reassuring way. 

“Calla does that,” she said. “She can tell things about you just by touch.”

Calla released Sam’s hand. “That’s how I knew the snake was such an important piece of the puzzle,” she said, pointing at Ronan, who rolled his eyes at the nickname but seemed to have accepted it.

“What did you see in me?” Sam asked, sounding nervous.

“For starters, I saw that you two really are the two we’ve been waiting for,” the woman answered.

“Alright, enough of this,” Dean interjected. “Maybe now you can use your psychic mumbo-jumbo and tell us a couple things? Mainly, who the Magician is, where he is, and why we need to help him.”

“How we can help him would be nice to know as well,” Blue added.

Maura nodded. “Well I don’t know what you know about psychics and our ‘mumbo-jumbo’, but I’ll tell you now that we don’t always have the answers.” She turned to address Calla and Persephone. “But maybe a reading could clear some things up?” This was posed more as a question than a statement. The two other women nodded and suddenly leapt into action.

“How should we do this? A simple spread? Have everyone involved take a card? Or something more intricate?” Maura wondered aloud as she exited the room, only to return with a pack of tarot cards.

“Where should I sit?” Blue asked. “Or should I leave?”

“What? Of course not, if we want the clearest reading we’re going to need you here,” Calla protested.

“I’ll get the shades,” Noah said, moving to block the sunlight seeping into the room.

“I think we should just have him pick three,” Persephone said in her soft voice.

“Who?” Maura demanded. “Which ‘him’?”

Persephone pointed one pale finger at Ronan. “He’s the most connected with the Magician. They share Cabeswater’s blessing.”

Ronan scowled at that, but Maura and Calla seemed to agree, ushering him over to the small coffee table they were all crowded around.

“What, no crystal balls?” Dean joked, but quickly schooled his face into something more serious when he was hit with three glares from Blue, Calla and Maura, each equally fiery in their own unique way. 

“Please just shut up,” Sam whispered to his brother. “Let’s at least try not to make them hate us.”

The tips of Blue’s lips quirked into a smile, indicating she had heard.

“Blue, shuffle the deck, will you?” Maura asked, and Blue obediently took the worn cards in her small hands, deftly rearranging the cards with experience. 

“Just a question,” Ronan asked as Blue shuffled. “What exactly are we hoping the cards will say?”

It was Persephone who answered. “If you focus right, they’ll show us what must be done to help the Magician.”

“But how can we help him when we don’t even know what’s happening to him?”

Blue had finished her shuffling and laid them out in an arc on the table with a snap of her wrist. “That might become clear as well,” she explained. 

“This seems like a lot of speculation,” Ronan said. Dean had been thinking the same thing, but had wisely refrained from speaking.

“Do you want to do this or not,” Maura asked flatly. “Because it’s not your safety that’s at stake.”

That comment seemed to sober Ronan, who jerked his head in a sharp nod and reached forward for the first card. He flipped it over. “The eight of swords,” he read tonelessly. Dean leaned over the boy’s bony shoulder to catch a glimpse of the card. It showed a figure, bound and blindfolded, surrounded by swords stuck in the ground, acting as a prison. The three women exchanged glances. No one looked pleased with this card. 

Ronan reached for a second card and flipped it over with little fanfare. “Nine of wands.” This received a few titters from the women. The card showed a weary looking man leaning upon a wooden staff, with eight more standing straight up behind him. Unlike the eight of swords, which was clearly unfavorable, Dean couldn’t tell if it was a positive or negative card.

Ronan’s mouth was a set line as he flipped a third card. “Death.” A hush fell over the room. The card depicted a skeleton donned in a black robe, riding a white horse through carnage.

“Well, that’s helpful,” Dean said, interrupting the silence that had fallen over the room.

Ronan looked at the three women. “Tell me what it means.”

“Well,” Maura started, “the eight of swords. The Magician is stuck somewhere, with no way to escape.”

“This could be either a physical place he’s stuck, or something more… mental. Like a state of mind.” Calla added.

“Do you know which one?” Ronan demanded. “Something tells me that might be important.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

Persephone spoke up, her soft voice commanding attention. “It’s both.” Everyone turned to look at her. “His body has been taken, but his mind is somewhere else completely. The blindfold, though, suggests he can’t see a way out of it.”

“Or that he won’t be able to find his way out on his own,” Calla added.

“I’m sorry,” Dean interrupted, “but that is the most infuriatingly vague thing I’ve ever heard.”

Sam shot Dean a glare. “I think what he’s trying to ask is, do you know where the Magician is? If he’s been taken?”

“Like I said earlier,” Maura replied, “we don’t always have concrete answers.”

“Can you please continue?” Ronan interrupted with a snarl. “We can figure it all out after the reading.”

“Check your attitude, boy,” Calla said, but the three women again bent over the second card.”The nine of wands… that’s pretty promising. It typically implies strength and the ability to overcome a challenge.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Sam interjected. “He’ll be able to get out of whatever prison he’s in?”

Maura worried her lip between her teeth. “What concerns me is that Death follows. The nine of wands shows that the Magician won’t succumbed to the challenges he’s facing, he has strength to face that come his way.”

“But?” Dean prompted.

Persephone spoke up. “Death is the most commonly feared card in a deck, but also the most misunderstood. It doesn’t mean end of life, per se, but more of a significant transformation, either for the better or worse.”

“Well? Which is it?” Ronan demanded.

Calla picked the card up, studying it closely. The three women leaned in and began a heated discussion in hushed voices. Blue made eye contact with Ronan and gave her best attempt at a reassuring smile, but it was weak.

“Blue,” Maura said suddenly, “take my hand, please.” Blue placed her small hand in her mother’s, making her connection to the supernatural immediately stronger.  
“If the Magician isn’t freed, he’ll become corrupted, and whoever has him is going to make it their goal to do so,” she said grimly, releasing her daughter’s hand.  
“Why?” Sam asked.

“They want his power, his control, but they can’t take it from him. It’s too ingrained in his person, too much of who he is. If they try to separate the two, the result will be fatal. Instead, they want to get him under their control, to corrupt him. If they do that, they’ll essentially have his power.”

Ronan’s mouth was a thin line. “And they’ll be able to access Cabeswater.”

Calla pointed at him, affirming his statement. 

“So, what do we do? How can we find him?” Blue asked.

Persephone turned to Dean and Sam. “Can’t your angel friends help you find him? If they led you to Ronan, surely they can help you find his counterpart.”

“Excuse me?” Ronan asked, sounding affronted. “My counterpart?”

Everyone ignored his outburst as Sam turned to Dean. “That’s a good point. We could ask Castiel.” Dean nodded in agreement.

“In the meantime,” Calla said, standing up, “anyone want something to drink? I’m thinking something strong.” 

“Oh, yes please,” Dean said, and she disappeared into the kitchen with a smirk. Blue hopped off her stool and Ronan pulled himself up. The only sign the reading had affected him was a tick in his jaw.

Blue touched his arm gently before approaching Sam and Dean. “You said you can ask your angel friends where to find him?” She asked, sounding hopeful.

Dean nodded and opened his mouth to comment, but was interrupted by Noah, who had seemed to disappear during the reading but was back now, standing just behind Blue. 

“I know someone who can help us,” he said, looking less ghost and more human boy this close to Blue. “His name’s Gansey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i know that people actively seeking this type of crossover are few and far between, and for those who aren't part of both fandoms, thanks for at least giving it a chance!! 
> 
> and don't worry, adam/the magician will make an appearance eventually ;)
> 
> also, everything I know about tarot cards came from the internet. needless to say, i know nothing about tarot cards, so don't read too deeply into the reading.


	3. The Magician

Adam Parrish knelt on the stone floor, with his arms pulled upwards and outwards from his body, shackled to the stone wall in which he had become intimately familiar with. His knees were bruised beneath him, and he’d lost almost all feeling in his arms a while ago. A familiar buzzing filled his head, like when his father hit him too hard, making it hard to focus on anything. His head hung low on his chest, too tired to hold it up anymore. To anyone watching, the boy appeared to be dead, apart from the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Adam Parrish was tired. 

His connection with Cabeswater, though significantly weaker in whatever prison he was being held in, was still there, but barely. The forest played on the edges of his mind, frantic at times, comforting at others, but no matter what it tried, it couldn’t seem to help him. It felt as if something physical was missing, some piece of himself gone, and even though he had long ago accepted that the forest was now part of him, it still scared Adam to know that his body wasn’t entirely his. Cabeswater protected him, had given him his connection to the Greywarren, but it used him. Adam wasn’t sure which was worse - the constant feeling of this has to be done right now playing beneath his skin, crawling through his veins like a vine, or the lack of it. The forest was incessant and demanding at best, but it had never locked him away, chained to a wall for three days. There was a bright side to everything, even magical and controlling sentient trees.

Adam winced as the heavy wooden door, which doubled as the only entrance to his prison, was pushed open, the resulting in a very unpleasant noise of the wood being dragged along the stone. What was even worse was the voice that followed.

“Well lookie here, our little Magician is awake!” The unfortunate man whose body was currently being possessed by Lucifer himself sang jauntily. Adam glared at him with tired eyes, looking up through the fringe of his hair. He hadn’t been able to sleep, not really. If he could, he could contact Cabeswater and the Greywarren, alert them of his situation. It might’ve helped Cabeswater locate him, or at least given Adam a break from his captivity.

“What, still got nothing to say to me?” Lucifer pouted, crossing the room in a few quick strides and grabbing Adam’s jaw with bruising strength, forcing his head upwards so that the two were eye to eye. Lucifer was gazing at him with the curiosity of a child, eyes searching for something in Adam’s face. Adam stared back resolutely, gaze unwavering. If there was anything he had learned after leaving his childhood home and being introduced into the world of the supernatural, it was that you had to be strong-willed, and Adam liked to think that his will was as strong as they come. Still, he dropped his head and flexed his jaw, trying to get rid of the feeling of the devil’s bruising grip that remained imprinted on his skin.

Lucifer had his back turned to Adam, hands clasped in thought. “You’re a tough one to break, you know,” he said, his voice still eerily light. “I mean, sure, it’s only been three days, but with what you’ve been through…” he shook his head and made a noise of shock. Adam listened wearily, eyes still trained to the floor just beyond his knees. “Cabeswater really picked well with you, I’ll give it credit for that.” Adam would’ve laughed at that if he could’ve. Cabeswater didn’t pick him, he had all but thrown himself at the forest in a desperate attempt to become something more than he was. If Cabeswater could choose, there was no way it would’ve chosen poor, dirty, unknowable Adam Parrish. It would’ve chosen somebody strong. Somebody like the Greywarren.

“Are you even listening to me?” The devil was back, his face contorted in sudden fury. “Good God, you’re infuriating.”

Adam thought of many responses to this statement, ranging from a sarcastic I can’t do anything except listen to you, it was you who decided to lock me down here in the first place, to a more desperate please just let me go. Of course, he’d never say either of them. After the first day, he’d stopped talking altogether, and he wasn’t about to start now just so that Lucifer was content. He’d had a lot of time to think about why he was here, what the devil himself would want with a simple boy like Adam, and none of the reasons his mind supplied were good ones. 

Lucifer’s bright blue eyes dominated Adam’s line of vision as his head was jerked upwards against his will for a second time in the past five minutes. “You look tired,” Lucifer all but cooed, cocking his head like a child. “Cabeswater’s little soldier is reaching his limit. Haven’t been sleeping well?” He paused, as if waiting for a response, which Adam refused to give. “Don’t worry, I’ve got something to help you sleep.” He pressed the tip of his pointer finger to the middle of Adam’s forehead, and he couldn’t help but gasp as the darkness rushed to swallow him whole.  
\----  
At first, Adam thought that he was in Cabeswater. The thick moss that lined the forest floor and the towering trees that all but blocked any glimpse of the sky above seemed familiar. He was in the kneeling position, same as he had been back in the cell, but there were no chains restraining him, and his body did not ache from torment and lack of use. Slowly, he rose to his feet, the moss springy yet surprisingly rough against his bare feet.

The air was still, as if the trees were holding their breath, and there was a distinct lack of noise, so quiet that it was deafening. Cautiously, Adam raised one hand to his right ear and snapped, just to be sure he hadn’t gone completely deaf. He hadn’t.

As soon as he did, though, the dim light that had filtered through the thick canopy of leaves warped itself in an unnatural and unfamiliar way, causing the shadows to elongate in almost human-like figures, with arms stretched outwards and towards him. Adam regarded them wearily, unsure of how to proceed, when something caught his eye. The back of a shaved head, the curve of a neck, the sharpness of a pure-black tattoo. The figure was unmistakably the Greywarren, standing just beyond Adam, partially hidden by shadows.

Impulsively, Adam stepped forward, the name “Ronan,” sliding easily off his tongue, and it was that moment in which Adam knew that the forest he was in was not Cabeswater, it was something much more sinister. 

The moss turned to shards of glass beneath him, piercing into Adam’s feet with no remorse. He looked down, the shock not yet having given way to pain, and watched as crimson blood spilled in rivulets from the soles of his feet, finding paths in the glass to flow away from him. The humanoid shadows, which were once laying dormant on the ground, began to climb to their feet in a jerky, stiff-limbed fashion, as if they were skeletons rising from the underworld. Adam stood, frozen, as the shadow figures began to approach in short, limped gates, lurching forwards in an effort to get closer to him. Without any connection to Cabeswater, Adam was all but useless when it came to defending himself against staggeringly tall shadow monsters. Instinctively, he turned to where he’d last seen Ronan, but he was gone, leaving Adam to wonder if he’d ever been there at all. 

Somewhere in the rational part of Adam’s brain, he knew that all this was simply a figment of his imagination, a sector of his brain so closed off and secluded that he couldn’t escape. Whatever Lucifer had done to him, it had locked him within his own mind, and there was nothing Adam could do about it. That thought alone was almost more terrifying that the shadow creatures that were descending upon him.

Adam took a step back, ignoring the fresh wave of pain and nausea as the glass once again dug into his foot. The creatures were strange things - at some times, they looked solid, but at others, they appeared to be translucent enough for Adam to stick his hand through one. Rather than wait to find out, he continued to back up, panicked thoughts flooding his mind as his back hit a tree. As soon as he made contact, roots shot out and tethered Adam’s feet to the ground and looped their way around his wrists, his neck, his torso, roping around him in such a fashion that it seemed he was becoming part of the tree itself. The creatures continued to advance, and as they finally descended upon him, Adam finally gave up and let out a blood-curling scream.  
\----  
Back in the physical world, a tiny green stalk had wedged its way between the stones of Adam’s prison in a seemingly impossible manner. The Magician was trembling, and his eyes flickered madly beneath his thin lids as he was forced to endure whatever nightmare Lucifer had induced. As the floor was slowly reddened from the blood oozing from inexplicable cuts in the soles of his feet, the tiny plant curled around his slender ankle, doing its best to comfort its suffering Magician.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha haha hahahahahaha, dear me. I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to post!! also it's really short. I love Adam dearly but found that I am unable to do his character the literary justice that he deserves. it'll be easier once he has other characters to interact with ;) Also, if you have never seen Supernatural and thought that Lucifer seemed a little immature/insane, that was what I was going for.


	4. Helicoptering In

300 Fox Way seemed to be more crowded than usual, or so it seemed to Blue. The two Winchester brothers certainly took up a lot of space, with their wide, dominant stances and barrel chests and crossed arms. She couldn’t help but feel that they found her home inadequate, with its narrow hallways and walls hanging heavy with artwork, a little cousin always underfoot, or one of the aunts’ lewd interest, as if they’d never seen a man before. Of course, rationally, she knew that Dean and Sam didn’t give a flying fuck as to the state of her house –if the stories about them were true, they basically lived in motels all their lives. Still, she got second-hand embarrassment every time Orla strutted through with miles of tanned skin showing, her eyes cast lustfully in the direction of the two brothers, who were looking increasingly uncomfortable, or when the phone would ring and there was a frantic moment in which every psychic in the vicinity would call out their input on who was calling, and why, and how long the conversation would take.

Ronan had claimed the couch in the card room and had stretched his long body over it, head leaning against the armrest so that his throat was exposed. His eyes were closed, but Blue knew he wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall asleep. She walked over and pretended to judo-chop his neck, but his hand shot out and caught hers before she could make contact with his Adam’s apple. 

“You okay?” Blue asked softly. Ronan just rolled his eyes in response.

“I’m fine, maggot, it’s the Magician that needs our help.” He sat up, making room for Blue to perch next to him. 

“Have you seen him recently?” She pressed. “In your dreams? In Cabeswater?”

“No,” Ronan said, spitting the word from his mouth like venom. “I haven’t seen him.”

Blue worried her lip between her teeth. “When was the last time you guys spoke? Did anything seem off about him?”

Ronan seemed to be contemplating. “It was about a week ago. He seemed… normal. Tired.” He paused. “Well, that’s actually normal.”

“So, no ‘the devil is after me, I’m going to die’ type of stuff?”

Ronan scoffed. “No. We just talked about… stuff.”

Blue smirked. “Cryptic as ever, Lynch.”

“Bite me.”

The air grew noticeably colder as Noah made his way over to them. He had been standing with Dean and Sam, who were now looking awkward as they stood in the doorjamb between the kitchen the and card room, listening to something Calla was explaining with whirling arms and occasional inputs from Maura and Persephone. “I just contact Gansey,” Noah said. “He’s on his way.”

Blue narrowed her eyes. “Who is this ‘Gansey’, anyways? How do you know him? Why can he help us?”

Noah sighed, long and deep, as if Blue’s barrage of questions was killing him. Except wait, he was already dead. Blue crossed her arms, waiting for Noah to elaborate. “I met him a couple of years ago. He’s good at this kind of stuff. Kind of like Dean and Sam, but less… murder-y, and more enthusiast.”

“You enlisted some nerd to help us?” Ronan summed up, sounding exasperated. “Just because he knows a little bit about the supernatural?”

“Hey,” Noah defended, “He’s not a nerd. He’s been studying this kind of stuff since, like, forever. He’s a genius.”

“How old is he?” Blue asked, skeptical. Before Noah could answer, Sam and Dean made their way over to the teens, having successfully escaped Calla before she could regale them with another story. 

“Have you contacted this Gansey character yet?” Dean asked gruffly. Noah nodded.

“He’s on his way.”

“From where? How long until he’ll be here?” Sam asked. “Dean spoke with Castiel, our -”

“Angel friend,” Ronan interrupted. “Yeah, great. Did he say anything useful?”

“To answer your question,” Noah butt in, “Gansey will be here in twenty minutes. Helicoptering in from DC.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Blue groaned.

“Not really,” Dean said, ignoring everyone in favor of answering Ronan’s question. “Just the same old ‘Lucifer’s growing stronger’ chatter. But he did mention that the forest feels… different.”

Ronan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? How does he have access to Cabeswater?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe it’s an angel thing. You can ask him when he shows up.”

“When is he going to show up?” Sam asked. Dean shrugged.

“Said he had to look into something first. Didn’t elaborate.”

Blue turned back to Noah. “I repeat, who is this Gansey person and why does he have a helicopter?”

“I didn’t say it was his helicopter!” Noah exclaimed, before adding, “but yes, it is his helicopter.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have a landing pad in my backyard,” Blue pointed out.

“Don’t worry,” Noah said. “I know where we can meet him.”

An hour later, Blue was seated back in the Impala with Sam and Noah. Dean had once again claimed shotgun to Ronan’s BMW, for reasons Blue couldn’t understand. She highly doubted that they were having a civil conversation, considering it took her months to get Ronan to truly open up to her.

Speak of the devil, Ronan pulled his shark-like car up next to the Impala and immediately stormed out, slamming the door before walking around to the Impala and rapping his knuckles against Blue’s window. She hurriedly unbuckled and climbed out, Sam and Noah following suit. Dean had climbed out of the BMW as well, and was surveying their new surroundings with interest.

“Is this really where we’re going to meet the Boy Wonder?” Ronan snarked. They were parked on the edge of a large, empty field, the grass knee-high and waving gently in the summer wind. Blue reached down to brush a bug off her leg. Sam sneezed. Dean sat upon the sun-warmed hood of the Impala. “Jesus Christ,” Ronan said under his breath.

“How does one land a helicopter?” Sam asked, shielding his eyes against the sun as he peered into the sky.

Personally, Blue was more concerned by the possibility of bug bites or hidden snakes than how their newest ally was going to land his helicopter. The fact that he was even ‘helicoptering in’, as Noah had put it, set her on edge. She was used to being around people more affluent than herself, but it still grinded her nerves whenever said-affluent person had to so blatantly advertise their affluence.

As if reading her thoughts, Noah drifted closer, his presence cooling her and making standing in broad daylight more bearable. “Gansey’s not like that,” he assured her. “You’ll like him, I swear.”

“We’ll see,” Blue muttered before turning to look at Ronan. Like Dean, he had leaned his body against the Impala, his arms crossed tight over his body and eyes closed, head tilted towards the sun. The bags under his eyes were bruise-like in their color, and she wondered when the last time he truly had a full night’s sleep was. 

“Do you guys hear that?” Dean said suddenly, sitting up straight and peering into the sky. Blue too turned her head upwards, eyes scanning for the tell-tale shape of a helicopter. She certainly heard what Dean was referring to - the steady sound of a helicopter’s propellers beating the air. Ronan remained in his position, eyes closed, seeming thoroughly unimpressed with everything that was happening.

The helicopter suddenly became visible as it crossed the treeline, already much closer to the ground than Blue had anticipated. She took half a step back as the beating winds pushed against her, flattening the grass and causing her hair to whip around her in a frenzy. Dean and Sam exchanged clearly-impressed looks, and Noah smiled tiredly. The helicopter bobbed downwards, then back up, then back down until it settled fifty meters away from the cars.The moment the propellers stopped rotating, the doors popped open, and two figures popped out. Blue could hear the shorter one, who was obviously a boy and was probably Gansey, saying, “Thanks again for letting me fly, Helen. I hope you’ll let me do it again soon.”

“Don’t count on it,” the taller woman replied, before looking up as Blue, Sam, Dean and Noah approached. Ronan stayed behind. “These are the people you’re coming to meet?” She didn’t sound impressed.

Gansey turned to face them, a bright smile on his regal face, his teeth almost blindingly white in this light. He was wearing khaki shorts that showed off his defined calves, a baby-blue polo shirt, and a pair of -in Blue’s opinion- offensive boat shoes. His chestnut-colored hair was artfully tousled, and his hazel eyes seemed genuinely happy to see the rag-tag group of people before him. The woman -Helen- was standing a bit behind him, her arms crossed and blonde hair put up in an important and complicated looking bun. 

“Noah!” Gansey exclaimed. “It’s good to see you again.”

Noah smiled softly. “You too. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course!” Gansey turned his broad smile to Blue, not even wavering despite her unimpressed face. He stuck out a perfectly-tanned hand. “You must be Blue!”

Blue took his hand and tried to match his firm handshake. “And you must be Gansey.”

“That’s me,” he laughed before turning to Dean and Sam. “And you are?”

“Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sammy,” Dean said, shaking Gansey’s hand. 

“Good to meet you,” Sam said with a smile. 

“Alright, if you’re all settled, then I’ll be going,” Helen said, turning back to the helicopter without saying hello to anybody. Gansey turned to her, his smile faltering.

“Okay, just wait for us to get out of the immediate area,” Gansey said, before leaning back into the cabin to yank a deceptively worn suitcase out. “Thanks again, Helen.”  
“A pleasure,” she said, before hopping back into the helicopter. 

“She’s a friendly one,” Dean muttered.

“I apologize for my sister’s behavior,” Gansey said, strolling through the long grass towards the cars as if he owned the place. “She’s never in a good mood after I fly.”

“Don’t worry,” Blue said, wishing that her legs were just a little bit longer so she could keep up with everyone else without having to take two steps for each one they took. “Ronan is so much worse.”

Gansey peered at the lean figure resting against the car, and didn’t hesitate to approach. “So, you must be Ronan.”

Ronan didn’t even crack an eye open. “In the flesh.”

Gansey’s eyes were narrowed as he scrutinized Ronan, but he seemed to find what he was looking for, and his face cleared. “So you’re the Greywaren.” He rubbed his lip with his finger. “How curious.”

Now Ronan sat up. “What’s curious about it?”

Gansey held his hands out in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just find it fascinating. I’d love to learn everything about you.” His eyes widened, indicating he realized how strange that sounded. “About your abilities, I mean!” He laughed. “Your connections with Cabeswater-”

Ronan whipped his head toward Gansey. “What do you know about Cabeswater?”

Gansey looked delighted that Ronan asked. “Quite a lot, I suppose!” He dropped his bag on the ground and began to sift through it until he procured a leather-bound journal that was overflowing with glued-in clippings and dogged-eared pages. “This is all my notes on… everything really!” He flipped to a page with ease, smoothing the pages down. Blue peered at the journal with interest. Each page was filled with scrawling script, with newspaper clippings and pictures that looked as if they had been cut from an old book. Blue’s hands itched with the desire to hold the journal and feel the weight of the knowledge held in it. Sam, however, beat her to it.

“Can I see that?” He asked. Gansey passed it over without hesitation. “You really record everything in here?”

Gansey nodded. “Everything that catches my interest goes in. The page I was just on is everything I know about Cabeswater, with a little bit of the Greywaren and the Magician.” He shrugged. “It’s not much, just what I heard. But now, I have you to fill in all the gaps!” Gansey exclaimed, turning to Ronan. 

Ronan shook his head. “I’m going to go sit in the car.”

Gansey turned to Blue and Noah while Dean and Sam pored over his journal, obviously impressed. “So, when should we get started?”

Blue glanced at Noah. “Get started with what?”

“You know, saving the Magician? That is what Noah contacted me for, at least. I’ve got a couple ideas of how to locate him.”

“This is amazing,” Sam said, handing the journal back to Gansey. “How do you get all of this information? Do you hunt?”

Gansey shook his head, eyes trained on his book as he pressed it closed. “Only if necessary,” he murmured, before looking up. “I prefer just to investigate.”  
Dean laughed. “Fine by me. Besides, you’re far too young to be a hunter.”

“Dean, you started at his age,” Sam reminded his brother, who waved him off. 

Blue cut in, addressing Gansey. “You said you had some ideas on how to locate the Magician? Care to share?”

Gansey nodded. “Of course. I’ve known Adam for a while now, he’s the one who’s helped me –”

Ronan was suddenly out of the car and very much in Gansey’s personal space. “What did you just say?” He asked through clenched teeth.

Gansey blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“You said Adam. How do you know his name?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was forbidden to say his name,” Gansey said, pressing elegant fingers against Ronan’s chest to push him back a little. “Adam’s my friend, of course I’ll do anything to help find him.” At everyone’s blank stares, he looked surprised. “Noah didn’t tell you? I’ve known Adam since before he was the Magician.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's Gansey! The crew is almost all together. Some apologies: Sam has like 4 lines, I'm sorry, I just can't seem to really capture his essence in writing. Also, this chapter took forever for me to post. Also, there's probably some grammar errors and whatnot.
> 
> ps if ur bored and have nothing else to do feel free to leave a kudo or comment ;)


	5. The Angel and the Magician

Castiel was testing his limits, again. The realms in which angels could visit were numerous, but this… this was something else. The nightmare of a tortured Magician, a terrifying experience concocted by the Devil himself, designed to shatter the will and resolve of the boy. Break his mind, break his spirit, break his control. That is what his brother, Lucifer, was doing – clawing his way through something he didn’t truly understand, pulling it apart piece by piece, poisoning everything until he had what he wanted. That was what he always did. He had been kicked from the kingdom of Heaven, and wasn’t satisfied with his castle in Hell. Lucifer wanted more, he always did.

It wasn’t Castiel’s job to stop him, exactly, but he knew what his brother was doing was wrong, terribly wrong. Cabeswater was not meant to be in control, not by Lucifer, not by anything. It was separate entirely from the angels and demons, heaven and hell. It was an older magic, infinitely more powerful, and most definitely should be protected from vile things like Lucifer. Castiel had always known of the presence of Cabeswater, and the creatures whom served it, but he had never concerned himself with it. Until, of course, the Winchesters brought it up.

They didn’t know anything, just that the Magician was missing, and the Greywaren could help him. Of course, anyone with wings knew that – it was the only thing being broadcasted for ages. They wanted him to help locate the missing boy, not fully understanding that if Lucifer didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.  
Still, Cas owed it to the two brothers to try, and try he did. Nobody else was doing anything of use: all the angels of heaven were to busy trying to prepare for a coming apocalypse than trying to prevent it. Pathetic. 

Why Lucifer wanted control over Cabeswater, Castiel wasn’t exactly sure. Cabeswater was ancient, known for linking the mortal world to the supernatural in ways that Cas didn’t completely understand. Perhaps Lucifer had worked it out. Castiel didn’t want to think of the consequences of Lucifer having control over the entire magical forest, with its arcing veins of energy that transpired over the entire globe. What did the humans call them? Ley lines. The Magician was the one who had the power over them, so if Lucifer had the Magician, he must want something with the ley lines.

So now Castiel found himself flitting through any dreamscape, any corrupted mind, any single, unheard scream, searching for this lost Magician. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t quick. He had no way of pinpointing exactly where the Magician’s higher level of consciousness -or was it unconsciousness?- rested, so he was forced to move from one mind to another, keeping alert for any telltale signs of wrongness.  
He was a woman, pleading for help, a child, terrified of what was just outside the door, a man, horrified with his own imagination. Castiel danced through these minds, never staying long enough to make his presence known, just to establish that no, this boy curled in on himself was not the Magician, and neither was this, and neither was this, and neither was this…

And suddenly, Castiel hit a wall. Not physically, but he felt the impact throughout his entire vessel, rocking him solidly. He paused, exploring the barrier. It was there for a reason, he could tell. It wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t neutral, either. It gave off steady waves of energy that made it difficult for him to keep his form. From what he could tell, it wasn’t man-made, and it wasn’t the work of an angel, or the Devil. It was something older, more powerful.

“Cabeswater,” Castiel said aloud to himself, really just to hear the word. Names held power, and this was one of the most powerful of them all. “Idcirco praecipio tibi ut me.” 

The barrier dissolved, a forest so ordinary it seemed to be on Earth. But no, this wasn’t Earth, this was the dreamscape of Cabeswater’s Magician, forced upon him by Lucifer. And the more Castiel looked, the more he realized was wrong with the forest. The trees were dark, their bark closer to the color black than their typical brown, and they reached dominatingly into the sky while their roots scavenged savagely along the ground, sucking life from all other plants. The moss underfoot was dark and oozed something that seemed like blood. There were shadows despite the lack of sunlight, and they were obscenely elongated, stretching out past the boundaries of the trees they were connected to. But the greatest shock was the absolute silence. There was no birdsong, no rustle of leaves, despite the fact that they were moving in an unseen and unfelt wind. 

Cabeswater had formed the barrier in an attempt to help its Magician, but the most it could do in this wretched land was encircle it, ensure that at least nothing else harmful could enter. What it couldn’t do was protect the Magician from the harm already in. If this dream really was induced by Lucifer, Cabeswater would be severely weakened here.

At the moment, nothing seemed amiss, apart from the glaring wrongness of the forest. Castiel stepped forward, his clean shoes sinking into the damp moss. So this was where his brother was keeping the Magician - a distorted version of Cabeswater, meant to confuse and terrify. Castiel continued further into the forest, brushing past hanging vines and clinging undergrowth, until he arrived at a clearing. It was a perfect circle, and contrasted greatly to the dark forest around it: the clearing was brighter - there was still no sunlight, but the oppressive, suffocating gloom of the forest was not present here. The damp moss was also not there - soft green grass had taken its place. The strangling shadows of the trees ended right where the clearing began: they were unable to penetrate whatever magic was making this place different. And in the middle of it all was a boy, sitting cross-legged in the grass with his eyes closed. A small flower was growing directly in front of him.

Castiel wondered if the barrier was here as well. It was obviously the work of Cabeswater, or at least Cabeswater was helping this boy create and keep this safe haven in the middle of the nightmare. However, nothing prevented him from stepping out of the dark forest and into the clearing. The boy did not seem to notice.

Castiel walked the perimeter of the clearing before coming to a stop before the meditating boy. This was his dream-self, but dream-selves reflect awake-selves, and vice versa, and this boy was battered. The bags under his eyes were dangerously dark, and the visible parts of his body were covered in bruises and lacerations. His wrists were the worst- deep, red cuts encircled them. 

“You’re the Magician.” He didn’t pose it as a question, because it wasn’t: this boy, beaten as he was, radiated power. 

The boy opened his eyes, his gaze on the flower, before looking up at Castiel. Despite the obvious exhaustion on the boy’s face, his eyes were clear. He seemed to be thinking of what to say, and decided on, “Are you real?” He spoke in Latin, but all languages were the same to an angel of the Lord.

“Are you?” Castiel countered with. “I, for one, am not physically here. I am here more on a… mental plane. This forest is not real, it is merely a nightmare forced upon you by an evil force.”

“None of this is real,” The boy summed up.

“But you already knew that.” The boy nodded.

“I’m Adam,” he said, pulling his battered body into a standing position. “How did you find me?”

“Many people are looking for you,” Castiel told him, noticing the way Adam’s eyes flickered with interest, with hope. “I was the first to realize that finding where you are physically is nearly impossible. But now that I’ve found you here, you can tell me where you are.”

Adam’s mouth worked through what it wanted to say. “That doesn’t make any sense.” Castiel supposed he could have explained it better, but why bother? “Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel, an angel of the Lord.” Adam didn’t say anything, but his face twisted into something like a grimace. “I’m helping Dean and Sam Winchester. Do those names mean anything to you?”

“No. Should they?”

“Not necessarily. But they’ve been sent to find the Greywaren, to help find you.” At the mention of the Greywaren, Adam’s eyes snapped up. 

“They’re with Ronan? Ronan’s looking for me?”

Castiel wasn’t sure who Ronan was -probably the Greywaren?- but it seemed important to Adam, so he nodded. “But we can’t find you. Lucifer has done too good of a job  
at hiding you.”

“So how is a search party going to help if you can’t find me?”

Castiel had a plan for this. “We need you to wake up and do everything in your power to find out as much as you can about where you are being kept.”

Adam shook his head. “I’ve been awake, and all I’ve seen is the inside of what seems like a stone cavern. There’s nothing identifiable about it.”

Castiel peered at him. “You are a Magician, are you not? You can see what isn’t always shown.” 

Adam fell silent, arms crossed. “He’s made it so I can’t wake up unless he makes me. He doesn’t know that I’ve done this” - at ‘this’, he spread his arms out, gesturing to the safe clearing - “and if I wake up, I don’t know if I can do it again. Cabeswater has no power here.”

Castiel disagreed with that. Cabeswater was surely weakened, but it by no means was powerless. “I will wake you,” he said. “And you will see what can’t be seen.”

Before Adam could protest, Castiel pressed his finger to the boy’s forehead, and closed his eyes, concentrating. When he opened them, Adam was gone, presumably back to wherever his body was. Immediately, the clearing began to darken as the Magician was no longer there to keep it at bay. Shadows stretched from the forest and moss crept forward, consuming the grass, slowly inching towards the single flower Adam had been sitting with. Castiel watched as it the shadows crept up on it, slowly draining the life from it. The flower jerked once, petals falling rapidly, before it too withered and was corrupted. 

Any trace of Cabeswater was gone, the dream starting to cave in on itself with the dreamer displaced. Castiel would find Adam again, after he gathered more information on where he was. In the mean time, Castiel figured Dean and Sam could use his help. He took one last look at the distorted forest, and let returned to himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! Sorry about the wait and the short chapter. I feel like it was confusing. I was confused while writing it. Basically, Castiel has angel powers that I made up and don't understand, so if you're confused, you're not alone. But if you're REALLLLLY confused and also angry about it, leave a comment asking for clarifications, and I'll be happy to try and answer it. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, and stay tuned for another chapter that will eventually appear. 
> 
> also, quick latin translation: I command you to let me in. I used some online translating site to translate, so probably not grammatically correct.

**Author's Note:**

> still working out the plot...  
> will continue if i receive 1 kudo


End file.
